I'm With You, Brothers & Sisters

FUCK COMRADE DIBLASIO (aka Warren Wilhelm)!!

FDNY, NYPD, and all other city workers: STAY STRONG, STAY COMMITTED. You have many more supporters than you can imagine, or that the propagandists will tell you.

Damn... I AM OLD!!

The text message I sent to my wife earlier this afternoon:

So, 40 years ago this weekend, 

I met a girl at a party. Her date

passed out drunk by the campfire.

Lucky me!

 

Her response:

So sweet, love you

 

So here is the whole story that spans about 2 weeks. I was 19, a year out of high school and recently home from boot camp and AIT because I was in the Army Reserves. I had broken up with my long term girlfriend a couple of months earlier, and was dating a high school senior, but we weren't all that serious. But she had been pretty much dating just me, while I casually dated 2 or 3 other girls at the time. I wasn't being a dirty dog, I just went out with whomever was available for a date, ending with nothing more than a quick smooch goodnight. Since Suzanne and I were together the most I was thinking of officially asking her out. One of her girlfriends was having a Halloween keg party/bonfire and she asked if we could go together. Perfect I thought, I will ask her after the party and we will officially become a couple.

A quick FYI.. at the time, the drinking age was 18, and everyone was either over 18 or "slightly" under. So alcohol consumption was a given. We went to the party and were having a good time. Until, this new boy at school showed up, and he was just "oh so cute!!" Suzanne and her other friend Peggy chased this kid around like two lovesick puppies, forgetting all about yours truly. I plopped down at the campfire with a Solo cup of beer by myself. Oh well I thought, I can't get mad, I guess I just should have asked Suzanne out sooner. I sat there for a while staring at the flames when something hits my shirt and lands in  my lap. I thought something fell out of one of the trees. Then something hits me again but I saw it didn't come from above but from the side. I look in the direction it came from, and this cute blonde I've never met before is sitting there eating roasted peanuts in the shell and looking all innocent. She finally looks at me and giggles. I moved a little closer to talk to her and then notice her date. He is passed out drunk lying on the ground behind her (funny side note, he is a successful real estate broker a few towns away. I can't help but think about this every time I hear about him). She is bummed because he got so drunk so fast. We exchange pleasantries and chat for a while (I don't remember about what). My mind was still on Suzanne, not trying to get a replacement. Kind of guy I am I guess. We got separated, the party ended, and I took Suzanne home.

A couple of days later Suzanne calls. She asks if I remember Brenda, and I'm like, "who's Brenda?" She reminds me about the girl I was talking to at Stephanie's Halloween party. OK, I said I remembered her now what about her. Suzanne told me Brenda really liked me, and was having a surprise birthday party at her house for Stephanie on Saturday and wanted me to come. I told Suzanne I was not going to just show up at some girl's house unless she invited me herself. The next night I get a phone call from Brenda, inviting me to her house for Stephanie's birthday party. I accept and told her I 'd be there.

I felt a little out of place, because Brenda was busy being the gracious party hostess and we didn't really get to talk one on one. She took me aside at one point and told me not to leave, but stick around until the party was over. Well I felt better and did have a good time with something to look forward to. When the party was over I helped Brenda clean up. Then she brought out her little toy poodle Baby. Baby had a broken leg in a cast because a friend of Brenda's little sister was holding the little dog and dropped her, breaking her leg. The dog was quietly resting in Brenda's bedroom during the party. We sat talking for a long time, with Baby curled up in her lap. Although she was a senior in high school, she was well over 18, and would be 19 by graduation the following spring. We decided to go on an official date the following Friday the 13th. The date meant nothing because superstitions are lost on me.

I don't remember what we did, but if I had to guess it was a movie followed by a few drinks afterwards. I remember having dinner at home with my family that night (because I did something really stupid that is a family joke to this day, and required me to have to change clothes before I went out). Brenda was so nice, so sweet, and so cute, that I fell for her big time. LOL... love at first sight but it took this dumbass two weeks to happen. We got married in August 1983. While it hasn't always been rainbows, lollipops, and unicorns, we have stayed together through good times and bad, and have an adult daughter. She's been married over 10 years herself.

 

NOTE: Names have been changed to protect the innocent.

Not My Idea, But I'm Gonna Run With It

I wish I could be there when some LIBTARD finds it in their hand or wallet

 

I saw it done somewhere online with an ink stamp that actually said, "FUCK JOE BIDEN" right across the middle of the bill. I decided to hand write the less offensive version (but we all know it means the same exact thing thanks to the dipshit NASCAR correspondent from ESPN). I have marked all the bills in my wallet, and passed the first six such marked $1 bills at the local convenience store earlier this afternoon. Because of how I keep my bills in my wallet, putting it on the back minimizes the chance of a cashier seeing it and either refusing to take them or otherwise flipping out.

Apparently it is perfectly legal and is called "decorating dollars." There are only three things illegal to do with paper U.S. currency.

• You CANNOT change the denomination — for example, you cannot add two zeros to a one dollar bill and pretend that it’s a one hundred dollar bill.
• You CANNOT burn, shred, or destroy currency, rendering it unfit for circulation.
• You CANNOT advertise a business on paper currency. For example, if you own a Bagel shop, you cannot stamp “Eat at Joe’s Bagel’s” on a dollar.

So have at it people... let everyone know your displeasure with the current state of government on their own increasingly worthless pieces of paper. For quite a while after January 20, 2017 I was writing on the back of all $20 bills "Donald Trump Lives Here" with an arrow pointing to the White House. He may not live in the White House any more, but he definitely lives rent free in LIBTARD's heads.

I'm An Idiot!

I thought there was a Patriot Guard Riders funeral mission today. I got an email from the MA Patriot Guard for the cemetery in Agawam on October 25th. We were to meet in the usual spot on Main Street at 12:45. Problem was, I thought today was the 25th. I didn't realize I was off a day until I pulled into the lot at 12:47 and was the only one there. I pulled my phone out and checked the email and it said the 25th at 12:45. Then I looked at my watch. Shit! Oh well, it was a beautiful day for a ride. I went to the cemetery anyway and placed a brand new shiny penny on all my relative's gravestones. Then on the way home I stopped at a friend's house that had been after me to stop by. He and his wife live in a lake community in his grandmother's old house. Next door to him was a totally dilapidated seasonal house that was falling down for decades. He had pursued buying the property for many years, but the family refused to sell. They finally had to sell and he bought it. He put up a nice garage/workshop/man cave where the house had been. I didn't stick around too long because they were headed out for lunch.

The other thing about today turned out to be a quick dry run of bringing a handgun in and out of The Peoples Republik on Massachusetts. Rather than carry it locked and loaded on my hip as I normally do, it was unloaded and secured with a cable type lock in the hidden compartment in the trunk. The magazine and ammo were locked in a separate compartment in the fairing. Carrying this way is a test of FOPA, since the bike is locked when parked and would only be searched if I wrecked, in which case I would be travelling through MA to a state where my firearm is legal. When I got to the convenience store near home to get a snack, I got some practice strapping on my holster, loading my pistol, and placing it in the holster right out in the open unnoticed. I then went in the store for some junk food and a soda. When I headed out for home, my gun was in the holster under my leathers as usual.

Fuck Alec Baldwin

Too bad he wasn't rehearsing a suicide scene where he had the gun to his temple.

If I had the chance, I'd hand him a gun with a single bullet in it and tell him to "do the honorable thing." It would be the ultimate "CANCEL."